Trouble Comes Knocking (Entangled Embrace) (14 page)

He pushed his hand into my hair and held my face. “Lucy, you aren’t losing me.” He kissed me, gently at first and then with a little more urgency. We’d had our few stolen moments at work and a couple of amazing kisses beyond, but this one reminded me he was mine.

He pulled me to his shoulder, rubbed my back, and held me close. “You aren’t losing me,” he said again.

We stayed like that for a few minutes before he spoke again. “So this is your room, huh?”

I laughed a little and sat up. “In all of its glory.”

“Lots of notebooks,” he noted.

I nodded. I’d already told him about my family. I didn’t want to get into my obsessive journaling, too. “At least my pony figurine collection has been packed away.”

He rubbed my back for a second, then took my hand and led me downstairs to go to breakfast.

“So The Slotted Spoon,” I said between sips of coffee. “We know Mr. Winters owned it with Mr. Smith, but the place doesn’t seem like it turns a profit. What are we missing?”

“One question I have,” John said, taking a bite of sausage, “is why was Mr. Winters doing anything separate from HGR in the first place? I mean, did he have some great passion for soup or was it only because of his mistress? Or did he owe his friend something?”

“Or was he being blackmailed?” I asked.

Plausible as anything.

“Over a restaurant?” John asked skeptically. “No way. There has to be more to it.”

“Maybe. We know he and Bonnie Kent went there for their affair, but maybe the business is a front for something else.”

“Can you get Detective Reyes to look into it?” John asked, his face lit up, eyes sparkled. This all excited him. I could see the younger John walking around with a magnifying glass piecing together clues regarding the mysteriously missing leftovers.

“Probably not,” I said, hating to burst his bubble. “We haven’t talked since the day he was shot. I know he’s in trouble at work because of me, so I don’t want to get him into any more.”

John smiled, seeming to shrug it off quickly. “I’m pretty good with computers. Want to come over tonight and see if we can come up with anything?”

“Think we can?”

He shrugged and took a big bite of his hash browns, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

I giggled. “Okay. So tonight you can show me your stuff.” I said it as suggestively as I could. Truth is, I’d been thinking about John’s “stuff” since our first night together. I’d wanted another opportunity to finish what we started that night, so this seemed as good an excuse as any. Even if he couldn’t ferret anything out, maybe we could find some other wonderful way to fill our time.

John wasn’t good at computers. John made love to computers the way Dee made love to her kitchen. He worked sweet magic with them and created life. The first time I’d been in his room and saw several monitors, I figured he was a big gamer, or he used the setup for writing music or something. No. Calling John a computer genius would be a bit akin to saying I could remember things okay or that Picasso liked to doodle in his spare time. Why was John wasting his time as a security guard when he could easily be so much more?

Watching his fingers whiz over the keyboard gave me girl wood.

“Let’s start with searches for Simon Winters and Ulysses Smith together.”

I sat back and let him do his thing. His eyes shot back and forth between the screens, and boxes popped up that I’d never seen before. “What kind of system is this?” I asked.

“Completely Linux based. I built it myself.” He turned to face me. “Truth is, I love my music, but I’m a realist, too. I know I’m not going to make a living as a musician.”

“No,” I argued, ever the optimist. “You can if you work at it.”

He laughed and leaned back, his long legs stretching out in front of him. “No, I can’t. So let’s call this my insurance policy. Security is a great job for benefits and having time to sit back, but I’m going to make my real money here.”

“Hacking?” I asked, wondering about the data at work. I hated that John kept coming into the investigation, kept coming into my mind when things looked off. I wanted so much to believe in his innocence. Why did he have to seem so damn guilty?

“No, I mean, yeah, I pirate movies, but no. I design apps, websites. Games, sometimes. I’m teaching myself, but someday I’m going to make something that’ll take off and then…”

I grinned, getting it. “Your Angry Birds.”

“Hell yes. My Angry Birds.”

“All right.”

He turned back to the screen and clicked a few more keys, then slowed. “This is something,” he said, motioning me closer. “Look at this. Closed records about Mr. Winters. Seems his first university expelled him for running an underground poker ring. Ohio State accepted him after that.”

“Can you look to see if Ulysses went to that same first school?”

“One step ahead of you.” He clicked a few more buttons, going back and forth between several screens, and then it popped up. “Bingo. They were kicked out together for the same thing.”

I moved forward from my place on his bed and knelt next to him. “Do you think they were involved in something similar here?”

“Could be.” John turned to face me. “I can hack,” he said. “I’ve done it before, but I don’t do bad things with it. I mean, I don’t try to cause havoc or anything. Mostly look things up for people sometimes or things like this.”

I frowned, moving back to the bed. “What are you trying not to tell me?”

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You told me about what happened with the data entry, and I wanted to tell you that Natalie isn’t involved.”

“I didn’t think so,” I said, my lips turning downward.

“But Mr. Winters absolutely was. And there is still someone working at HGR trying to cover his tracks. I’ve been able to trace a little of it, but whoever it is, they’re good.”

Shaking my head, I stood and paced the room. “So how do we find out who?”

“Problem is they’re using Natalie’s log-in. That’s why it’s tracing back to her. I have to try to find a time that they logged in when Natalie wasn’t there or something that will prove beyond a doubt she isn’t the one.”

“And there hasn’t been anything since she’s been gone?”

“No,” he said, puffing his cheeks for a moment while he thought. “What’s so annoying is I found it going back to Natalie before the police did, but now I can’t track it anymore. And I can’t go to the police with what I’ve found because what I’m doing here isn’t exactly legal.”

By “exactly legal” I knew he was telling me it was completely illegal, and while it tied our hands, I decided it still gave us something to work from. I stopped pacing and faced him. “Let’s go back to The Slotted Spoon.” I scraped my hands over my hair. “Right now. Let’s see if we can find something there, or maybe figure out what’s going on.”

“Do you think they’d do something at the restaurant?” he asked, skepticism written across his face like a graphic novel.

“Why else would they have a restaurant that no one eats at? Maybe they’re running the same kind of thing and they had a falling out.”

John shrugged and our eyes met moments before he pulled me into a kiss.

Our second of the night, and my head spun as his kiss electrified and excited me. Tongues dancing, his hand rubbing on the back of my neck. It took all my effort not to push him onto the bed right that minute.

He pulled back and brushed a fingertip across my nose. “Let’s go.”

Inside the restaurant there still weren’t any customers. Only me, John, and the same waitress from the other night.

She brought us our waters and later our soups, and nothing at all stood out.

“I don’t know,” I told John. “I mean, maybe Ulysses has family money, or maybe Mr. Winters was fronting or something.”

“But why would he risk his career for the sake of an old college friend?”

All I knew was even though the soup didn’t suck, it certainly wouldn’t win any awards, either. We finished eating and sat around wasting time to see if any customers showed up.
Baby’s first stakeout,
I thought with a little mental giggle. Not a single other person arrived. “Look, I’m going to the restroom, and then I think we should skedaddle,” I told him.

Some guys do what you want just to get something from you. John had spent several hours sitting in an abandoned restaurant with me. Not only to support me but because he clearly had sleuthing in his blood. His deflation at our lack of action couldn’t be hidden if he’d tried. “Sorry, Lucy, I thought we’d see something. Maybe like a trail of guys going to the back or something.”

Poor John, poor us. I’d been waiting for the same exact thing, though I hoped I hid my disappointment better. “Perhaps you and I watch way too much television,” I told him. “Be right back.”

I walked down the hallway and found the women’s room easily enough. Sitting down, I listened for a second. The sound of voices filtered through the vent above the stall. My breath held as I tried to make out the words.

It didn’t help. They were too muffled. I finished and washed my hands. Stepping out of the restroom, I saw a door marked
Employees Only
. Which, of course, in every movie is where they hide the bad guys and the good guys only go if they want to be attacked by eight evil ninjas. It took me only a second’s hesitation to turn the handle and peek inside.

I expected a janitor’s closet and instead found that the hallway continued to what had to be the outside.
Why is this Employees Only?

The door at the end opened, and I stumbled back, shutting the door as quietly as possible. I waited to see if the footsteps came in my direction, but they stopped.

Inching it open again, I saw a man hesitate before knocking on a door I hadn’t seen, tentatively at first, then with determination.

The door opened, and a man about the size of a refrigerator stepped through and blocked the entrance. “Name,” he demanded in a terrifying voice—deep and not to be trifled with. He crossed his arms, and his body filled the entire doorway, spilling over like a woman in the wrong size Spanx.

“Tom Schmidt. Frank sent me? I’m here for poker. This is the place, right? I mean, Frank said I just had to bring the money and I could play? Said there were games nine o’clock, every night,” the man spoke as fast as possible, and his voice ended in what sounded like a question rather than a statement.

He was new to this. He wouldn’t have to explain any of that had he been there before. I could nearly hear the sweat drip from his body.

“You have the money?”

I heard a slight rustling and something fell to the floor. Tom let out an expletive. “Sorry.” He fell to his knees before finally gathering everything together and handing it over. What a Melvin. This all might be illegal, but he certainly wasn’t some criminal mastermind or anything. More some poor schmuck who liked playing poker and had money to burn.

The refrigerator let him into the room, and the door shut behind them, a loud
clink
sounding as the dead bolt slid into place.

Shutting the door, I turned and leaned against it, breathing a sigh of relief. I wasn’t crazy, there was something going on here. Not a little something, either. Another poker ring, only more organized and much more expensive. An electrifying energy raced through my body like a panic attack or a jellyfish sting. My heart pounded, and I settled my hand over my chest to try to calm it. I had to tell John.

The door to the kitchen opened, and the waitress spotted me. “What are you doing at that door? That’s for employees.” She reached into the pocket of her smock and pulled out a cell phone.

Suddenly my pounding heart was the least of my concerns. I would see those ninjas after all. I was about to be whacked, Dee would have to ID my body, Eli would feel guilty for never having answered my calls. “Sorry, I didn’t feel too great when I left the restroom. I had to take a minute before I went back to my date.” I motioned her closer and whispered, “You know, gas.”

She took an immediate step back, dropping the phone into her smock. “You don’t need to be here. Finish up and get out front before you get hurt.” She stepped past me and into the Employees Only area.

Walking quickly to our table, I hissed to John, “We have to go! Now!”

Chapter Thirteen

“Officer Len, I needed Eli’s help at that point. You understand that, don’t you?”

He scraped his finger across his eyelid and then tugged at his earlobe. “What I understand is that you went willingly into a dangerous situation even after you were told explicitly to keep your nose out of it.”

My hackles rose. “An innocent woman, a friend of mine, was being accused of something she didn’t do. A man was murdered and his killer still at large. And Captain Matheson practically wanted to package up Natalie for the DA, wrap a big red bow around her, and let things fall as they may. I couldn’t allow that.”

Officer Len made a few notes on his notepad and spoke softly under his breath.

“I heard what you said.”

He looked up. Squinted his eyes. “Okay, so tell me, why do you think you’re better than an entire police force? Why did you have to be the one to go about saving the day?” This time saying it out loud.

“I had to be the one because she’s my friend. I knew in my heart she was innocent when no one else did, when no one else wanted to help her. Captain Matheson was happy letting her take the fall for something she didn’t do. Of course I had to be the one.”

“Eli, please call me back. It’s urgent. Please. We need to talk.” I hung up and continued to pace back and forth in John’s bedroom. I stopped and stared into the space above his head. “What are we going to do if he doesn’t get back to me? Obviously the police haven’t come across this yet, or they’d have also figured out Natalie isn’t guilty.” Plus, I still had to let Eli know he was wrong about John being the baddie.

John leaned back on his bed, arms crossed under his head. He stared at his ceiling, and I could just about see his brain trying to process things. “We’ll have to storm the gates, so to speak,” he said, determination in his voice like I’d never heard before.

I hated to admit it, but I liked this new John. Take charge, manhandle the situation. Not to say I didn’t like his sweeter side, too, but this side was seductive.

Wouldn’t mind if he manhandled me a little.

Maybe after Natalie was no longer looking at a fifteen-year sentence. And Mr. Winters’s killer was no longer trying to kill me.

Still, I straddled his middle. Leaning down, I let my breasts press against his chest as I nibbled his bottom lip, teasing gently as he lifted his head for more. His hands came out from behind his head, and he pulled me closer. “This is nice,” he said in a warm-as-ginger voice. He nuzzled my neck and worked his fingers through my hair.

I leaned my forehead against his and kissed the tip of his nose. “I wish this could all be less complicated.”

I tried to get off him, but he grabbed my hips and held me tight.

“Life is complicated, Lucy. I’ll take anything I can get from you.”

“Mmmm,” I moaned. As his hips moved beneath me, my whole body heated. Then, inexplicably, my thoughts went to Natalie, then to the man outside my window. I thought about Roger Ridley possibly hunting me down, and a killer who had me in his sights. My sisters, my parents, Voeller. Over such a short amount of time my life became so complicated I couldn’t imagine throwing myself entirely into a relationship. Not even with John. “I wish I could give you so much more.”

“You give me everything you can,” he said softly, his eyes half-lidded.

Laying my head on his chest, I rested there for a few moments. Finally, I sat up and traced my fingers down his front, tucking my thumbs into the belt loops on his blue jeans.

“What if I get into the game?” John asked, once again staring at the ceiling. “What if I go in through the back and say what the other guy said?”

“The other guy also had money,” I reminded him. “I don’t know how much, but it didn’t look like a small amount.”

“I have some money,” John said, still with the thoughtful look on his face. “As long as I don’t lose it, I can use it in the game.”

Shaking my head, I rolled off and sat next to him. Sitting on top of him like that was too big a distraction. “We can’t risk that, John. Are you even good at poker?”

“I’m all right. I mean, not World of Poker material, but I’ve won a few games in my day.”

“John,” I said, hoping he understood that what I was about to say wasn’t to hurt his feelings. “We can’t depend on the couple of games you won keeping you in there long enough to hear something.”

Sitting up, he said, “I’m not bad, and I’m offering up my own money. Really, it’s all my risk, so what’s the problem?”

How do you soothe the feathers of a man who is trying to help but about to walk into a situation that could get him killed? I decided I had no way to soothe, so instead I’d talk logic. “I can do it,” I said.

He shook his head and opened his mouth to argue, but I held up my hand, asking him to let me continue. “Listen. I know how to play poker, but more importantly I count cards. I can also fake not counting them. I used to play with Aunt Dolores and her old biddy friends. I know I can win just enough to stay in the game but not enough to make them suspicious.”

“It’s not possible,” John argued, cheeks turning blotchy red. “I’m sure you can count cards, but you can also get yourself killed. I couldn’t live with myself. Besides, if these are the same people who killed Winters and are now trying to kill you, they know who you are.”

Ignoring the last part, I took his hand and looked him in the eyes. “I know what I can do. I don’t get to use my ability for good that often. Please let me do this, let me see what I can find out.” They might know who I am, but I can’t go on living like this, terrified about when I might be shot at again. Or, worse, what if they went after Aunt Dolores or Ana or John next time?

His lips puckered in disapproval, but he didn’t argue further. He closed his eyes and gritted his jaw as he thought about it. Waves of emotion washed across his face in the moments that followed. I felt a no
coming and braced myself for the argument.

“And you can help,” I offered, hoping it would make him agree.

His eyes didn’t open. “How is that, Lucy?” He sounded tired now, like all the fun of this had drained and left behind nothing but the sick fear. I couldn’t blame him. I hadn’t slept soundly since this started. Wouldn’t sleep soundly until it ended. Which is why I had to know the right person, a.k.a. not Natalie, would be locked away.

“You’re all high tech and wired. You can monitor what is going on, record it. Make sure we get the evidence we need.”

He opened his eyes and, while they didn’t appear as tired, the worry hadn’t left their edges, either. “We still don’t even know why Mr. Winters was killed.”

“No, but maybe someone will let something slip. Maybe we can figure out who owns the car.”

“Maybe you’ll get yourself killed.”

My shoulders drooped.

“Or maybe you’ll break the whole thing wide open and save the day.”

I looked for the lie on his face and didn’t see it. His microexpression didn’t change, he didn’t shift his eyes to the left, or cover his mouth or touch his nose. These are all things I see on people who lie. He meant it, truly, and his vote of confidence gave me hope I hadn’t known in a long while.
Wow
, I thought,
things might actually start to work out
. “If anything happens, you have to get Eli,” I said. “I know you two don’t get along, but you have to get him.”

The frown came back. “He’s not even returning your calls. How do you expect him to show up if you need him there?”

“He just will,” I said with certainty.

We decided on Friday night for the great poker heist, as we referred to it between us. Eli finally called me on Wednesday while I dressed for bed. “Where have you been?” I asked without so much as a
hey, what’s up
.

“And a good day to you, too,” he drawled, using the Texas charm I’d only ever heard him use when flirting with the barista or trying to win over my aunt. Then his voice changed to a more serious, less-charming tone. “Lucy, I’m sorry. I don’t think it’s a great idea for us to talk anymore. I’m in big trouble for having you at my house. I acted inappropriately and dangerously, and I’ve been reprimanded.”

“You also stopped a killer from killing me. Did anyone say anything about that?”

“I could have gotten us both killed.”

I tapped my foot as I held the phone. I didn’t know what to think. He’d become such a big part of my life over the past few weeks, I couldn’t imagine not having him around anymore. Especially because he tried to help me. “I don’t think it’s right,” I said, finally, an acute ache squeezing my chest. “But I guess I understand.” Only, I didn’t. Just saying it brought up a lump in my throat.

This was a man who quite literally took a bullet for me.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, and I could tell something else was on his mind. “Spill it,” I said. “What else aren’t you saying?”

His silence burned a hole in the distance between us. “Lucy, Natalie’s charges changed last night. There is strong evidence implicating her in Simon Winters’s death, and there is nothing I can do to protect her.”

I dropped the phone. Fumbling, I caught it and laid in. “She didn’t do it,” I wailed, imagining my sweet friend facing such horrible accusations. “You know she didn’t.”

“I don’t, Lucy. All I know is that everything points to her, and if a horse has stripes, it’s probably a zebra.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It doesn’t matter how much I don’t want her to be guilty. Everything points to her, which means she probably is. Sometimes there’s no protecting someone from themselves, no matter how much you want to try.”

The last part was directed pointedly toward me, and I took it as such. “Thank you for that, Detective Reyes. I appreciate the heads-up. And thank you for believing in me
so
much when I’m telling you what I know.”

I could hear the anger creep into his voice through the cracks that had formed in our relationship. “Truth is, Lucy, you’re playing cop when really you’re only an office worker. You never were an official consultant on this case, and I was wrong for leading you along. I thought I could get something from you and boost my career, but what I got was demoted and a whole lot of headaches. So clearly you don’t know nearly as much as you think you know, and you should stay out of things that are outside your area of expertise.”

I tried to keep my own anger contained, but his words broke the fragile hope I’d had of continuing a relationship. How had I let myself believe someone as close-minded and driven as Eli could ever understand what I do? I’m not better than anyone else—God, I know that much—but I sure as hell hoped if it came down to my career or letting an innocent person rot in a jail cell, I’d pick the person. “Again, thank you for your words of wisdom, Detective Reyes. I believe we are done here. I hope you and your career have a long life together.”

He didn’t say a word. Instead, the phone went dead before I could say anything further. Quelling the desire to throw my phone across the room, I instead slammed it onto my nightstand and ferociously brushed the freeze gel from my hair. His gall. His audacity! I didn’t know what I’d ever seen in Eli to begin with.

I mean, to imagine someone talking to me like that, someone who’d treated me so tenderly only a few days ago. What kind of person does that? “A crazy person, that’s who,” I said out loud.

Ana rolled over and squinted an eye at me. She usually slept through everything, so I must have been loud to have woken her. “It’s late, Lucy. Why are you still up?”

“You’re already a model, don’t act like you need all that much beauty sleep,” I shot back. I flicked at a lint ball on my quilt and turned to face her. “Okay, so here’s the deal,” I started before telling her everything.

A few minutes later, when I finished laying out my plan, Ana sat at the edge of her bed, fully awake. “Lucy, no offense, but you’re an idiot.”

I pouted. That genuinely hurt. It’s one thing to have friends who can say anything to you at any time, it’s another entirely when they actually say those things. I didn’t think I appreciated it at all. “Offense taken. What’s wrong with my plan?”

She stood and paced across the room. “You’re sneaking into a poker game—that is possibly hosted by the guy trying to kill you—to find out who is trying to kill you.”

“And?”

“You’re going to be your own bait. It’s like a mouse made of cheese setting a trap for itself, which is consequently also made of cheese.”

“You aren’t making any sense,” I said, feeling defensive of our plan. It worked in theory, or at least in my mind, only hours ago. I didn’t appreciate all the hole-poking going on now. “Look. If he’s in there, he’ll recognize me, and I’ll know who he is.”

“Because he’ll kill you!” she shot back. She picked up a stress ball from my desk and tossed it at my head.

I batted it away. “Not in a room full of people.”

“No, afterward, in a dark alley, or a warehouse somewhere where you’re forced into boots made of cement right before they introduce you to their favorite family fishing hole. You’re trying to make the same dumb move they do in all those movies. The move that everyone hates because no sane or real person would actually do something so idiotic. C’mon, think about this, Lucy.”

She had a point. I did hate that in movies. And when the killer explains everything because he’s about to kill you anyway? Yeah. Like that ever happens.

“So what would you suggest?”

“Beers. Maybe wings. It’s only ten o’clock, and you’re right. I am way too pretty to be in bed this early. Let’s go out.”